


Life Hacks

by TheViperQueen



Series: Spikes and Sparks [2]
Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, I laughed far too hard writing this, JT strikes again, More characters to be added, Surprise Blowjobs, Wrench likes super cheesy porn, interrupted mastery of the bate sessions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 17:56:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15200279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheViperQueen/pseuds/TheViperQueen
Summary: This ‘story’ will be a collection of short one-offs mostly revolving around Wrench/Reader—the very same ‘Reader’ from my other storyThe Four Date Rule—and the rest of the DedSec crew. Updated as the mood strikes, so there’s that. (if infrequent/spastic updates bother you, don’t hurt yourself by getting involved with these fics, to say the going’s slow is the biggest understatement of the entirety of ever lmfao)Up First:Worth Two in the Bush“Well you know what they say: ‘a dick in the hand isn’t as good as one in the bush.’”“Wrench, literallynobodysays that.”In which Wrench gets caught diddling his doodle and, well, you'll see...





	Life Hacks

**Author's Note:**

> So like yeah, I’m back sorta. For all that are wondering, yes I am still working on my main Wrench/Reader story. I’ve had a lot of… let’s call it _weirdness_ in my life as of late and that coupled with some serious writer’s block means that writing for that particular story is going damned slow. But I didn’t want to leave you guys hanging like last time so here, have this.  
>  Also! Wanna give a quick shout-out to genius_idiot and Shepurr for putting up with my whiny, long-winded ass lol. You guys da bessss <3

“ _OoooOOoooo-yeaaaaah… Oh! Fuck me daddy, fuck me! Yeah, just like that! Just like that!_ ”

The fakeness of the loud moans that follow the theatric declarations has you stopping short as you enter Wrench’s apartment.

It’s only been a few days since you’ve both swapped keys and it’s a big step in your relationship to be sure—especially when the value you both place on privacy and personal space is taken into account. Not wanting to abuse the privilege, you both had agreed to alert each other ahead of time before actually using the things, at least for now, and you had followed protocol, but–

“ _Yeah, yeah! I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum—make me cum!_ ”

–apparently Wrench forgot that you were coming over after work.

You’re not entirely sure if you should stay or go. On the one hand this is hilarious in the most terrible of ways, but on the other it feels like a big breech of privacy. You find the dramatics of the onscreen pair to be fake at best, but apparently it’s doing _something_ for Wrench. The hanging racks that he uses to partition off his bed from the rest of the flat keeps you from seeing much, but you can just hear the sounds of lubricated flesh being enthusiastically tugged over his moans and groans.

 _The fake tits and six inch heels that has to go along with such a performance is something that I’ll never be willing to give him, so… Hell, more power to ya all. Jerk on, babe, jerk on._ It’s with that amused thought that you turn to leave, but a hail from JT— _“Hello, Mistress. Nothing to report.”_ —stops all that action.

In that moment four things happen:  
1\. You flinch, hard, and stare wide eyed at Wrench.  
2\. The man in question has some type of full-body spasm that leaves both him and his tablet on the floor.  
3\. The smutty starlet _finally_ cums.  
4\. JT rolls off into the kitchen like it’s the fuckin’ sunset.

Wrench calls out your name in between a few choice curses, though he has to know you’re there—you’re the only one with a key that the damned bot calls _Mistress_ (Wrench swears the thing came up with the moniker on his own, but you know that’s total bullshit).

“It’s me,” you confirm as you close the door behind you. “I–” The rest of the sentence dies on your lips as a pained groan reaches you. Any lingering embarrassment you feel is lost under the weight of your concern; the floors are little more than fancy concrete after all. “Are you okay?” you ask as you rush over to him.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good! Just, uh, stay ov—and you’re here already nevermind then.”

You can’t help the trickle of laugher that escapes you as you take in the sight before you. Wrench is laid out on his back in a semi-spread eagle pose. His right hand still has a fistful of black pinstriped boxers that have been pulled halfway over his hip; that same leg is bent up at the knee while the opposite is tossed out wildly to the side with the heel of his still-sneakered foot propped up on the lower shelf of one of the clothing racks. His left hand is slapped snugly against his eyes and the contrast between the tanned skin of it and his rapidly reddening face is stark. Surprisingly his cock is still hard. _How???_ you wonder as you watch the thing bob awkwardly against his stomach in time with his helpless laughs. All the while the sounds of a new video serve as a fitting soundtrack for the ridiculous scene.

“Uhh, need some help there?” you ask around your snickers.

Eyes pinched shut and cheeks aflame, he shakes his head hard. “No, I think I can manage, _thank you_.” He rises then with as much dignity as the situation will allow and sets himself mostly back to rights; both the pants and the boxers come up, but with his erection still tinting the cloth he doesn’t bother with zipping the former. “So I _maaaay_ have forgotten you were coming over.”

You give him a dry “You don’t say?” as you bend down to collect his tablet.

“I’ll just –yeah.” He turns the video off before tossing the device on his bed. “Okay so this is about to enter the realm of ‘awkward as shit’ and I kinda really hate that place so if we could maybe just avoid that part of the trip and just skip to the bit where we laugh about this, that’d be great.”

“No objections here,” you say with a shrug. You hate that realm just as much as he does. “So hey, remember that time I accidently caught you jerkin’ it to some cheesy porn? Funny shit, my dude.”

“And _this_ ,” he starts as he pulls you in by the hips, “is why you’re the best girlfriend in the known universe. How did I ever get so lucky?”

“A better question is how the fuck are you still hard after all that?” Between the mortification and a bruised wrist any other guy would be softer than a wheel of brie.

“It’s a gift,” he says with a shrug. “Short of actually jizzin’ there’s little that can dissuade the not-so-little fucker.”

You arch a brow at that. “ _Oh yeah?_ ” The question—or is it a challenge?—comes out as purr. Your lips quirk up into a smirk that he’s quick to mirror, but a squeeze at his bulge has it faltering.

“Y-yeah… Fuck, babe, if you keep doing that–” The rest of the sentence is cut off by a choked moan. “ _Shit!_ I swear you weren’t this corrupted when I found you. I must be rubbing off on you.”

“Oh Wrench darling—you haven’t rubbed off on me _yet_.” It’s a terrible sentence all the way around, you’re sure of that the moment it leaves your mouth, but it’s that particular brand of terrible that you both love and you deliver it in such a demure way…

“Well you know what they say: a dick in the hand isn’t nearly as good as one in the bush,’” he tells you as he pants out a laugh. “And that’s any day of the goddamn week.”

“Wrench, literally _nobody_ says that.”

“Well they should. It’s a–” a hard swallow as your hand snakes into his boxers and palms him properly, “–a good ass saying.”

“You have no idea what you’re saying anymore, do you?”

“Not a goddamn clue,” he admits as his head lolls back.

Laughing just a bit, you press a quick kiss to the column of his neck before pulling your hand from his underwear. The resulting whine is pitiful at best and it only increases in pitch as you push him back onto his bed.

“ _Baaaabe_ …” His pout can be heard if not seen, as he’s decided that clamping his arms around your waist and burying his face against your tummy is the best course of action.

You sigh a bit even as you rub a fond hand over his dull brown locks. “I’ve never seen a man whine so much before getting some beej action.”

“Wait, I’m gettin’ a blowie?”

“You will be if you let go of me,” you inform him with a tilt of your brow.

“Ohhhh _fuck yeah!_ ” He’s quick to let go and even quicker to wiggle his way out of his pants and boxers again; his enthusiasm has you giggling despite taking a headbutt to the boob in the process.

Once you’re no longer in danger of taking another hit, you sink down to your knees and take his dick into your hand again. He’s still a bit slick from his solo session, but your earlier pawing has gotten rid of most of the lube and for that you’re grateful; it might make things— _ahem_ —go down smoother, but the taste leaves a lot to be desired. With your thumb running across the backside of his cockhead, you run your tongue up the length of him. Hands instantly find your hair as you repeat the motion and dig in tight, a sign that he’s not in the mood for too much teasing. You slide your hand down his shaft in a loose fist as you move to envelope his thick head with the warmth of your mouth. What follows is one of the more amusing blowjobs you’ve ever given.

The slurping sounds coming out of you are almost foley-esque in their obscenity. They’re loud, wet, and would be wholly embarrassing if Wrench wasn’t adding to the chorus himself. His harsh growls trail off into soft whimpers before scaling up into something high enough to call in dogs. He swallows thickly as he continues to pump up into your mouth. You allow the motions of his undulating hips with little moans of your own until a particularly enthusiastic thrust leaves you half gagged; after that you press against the hard crests of bone with enough force to make sure he knows to _stay put_. He doesn’t seem to mind this at all; with his release looming ever closer he’s willing to take whatever you’ll give him so long as he actually gets to cum.

Sensing that the end is near you work overtime to give him what he needs. A clever tongue dances around the sensitive little knot of nerves at underside of the tip while your right hand continues to glide over his shaft—the left is still occupied with holding down his thigh to make sure no more accidental chokings occur. His hand wraps around your busy one and squeezes which in turn makes you grip him just that much tighter and apparently this is what he wants since he lets go soon after with a sound that’s half contented hum, half groan of approval. 

“Yeah-yeah-yeah. Babe. _Fuck._ Just. Like. That.” His voice has gone all breathy and languid, but there’s a strain to it that has you looking up. Wrench is staring back at you, those perfect sky-toned eyes made all the bluer for the flush in his face and the permanent stain that is his birthmark. His gaze is intent and almost impossible to look away from, but then he’s sucking his full bottom lip back in between his teeth and clamping down hard and you moan a bit at the sight. His lips, _fuck_ his lips. You’re pretty sure that dealing with all the frustration of only seeing the man from the nose down for the first part of your relationship has given you a serious case of oral fixation. More often than not you find yourself staring at his mouth whenever it’s on display, a thing that he more often than not notices and promptly takes advantage of. Now, of course is no exception. He slowly lets the reddened flesh slide out past the white of his teeth and you watch intently as the pale lines left behind by the pressure of the scrap rush to fill back in with blood. His tongue traces along his top lip in a deliberate glide that has you gripping even tighter at his cock; somehow the fucker manages to groan without losing his smirk.

 _Okay fucktart, if that’s how you want to play it…_ Wrench isn’t the only one that knows how to exploit a kink. Your left hand leaves the warmth of his hip to loosen your pants; it takes a few seconds longer than you’d like, adrenaline and arousal making your movements clumsy, but soon enough you’ve got enough room to slide your hand in past your underwear. Your eyes snap to his as you bush past your clit—he’s almost all pupils now—and you pull away from his cock to let out a groan of your own. The sound that pushes its way out of your throat can only be described as _lewd_ and it’s only made more so back the fact that his cock is resting against your lips as it escapes. The heated flesh twitches against the warmth of your breath as Wrench lets out a flurry of _fucks_ that become more and more squished together until they devolve into a whimper. His hands fist into the sheets on either side of him, he too afraid of ripping at your hair if he actually grabs it as he so clearly want to do, and his mouth is hanging open ever so slightly in a continued pant. The light sheen of sweat that has been covering his skin thus far thickens, matting his hair to his forehead and curling it slightly. All in all, it’s one of the most delicious slights you’ve ever seen and it leaves you smirking as he had been just moments before.

You have no idea why you getting yourself off while sucking him off does it for him, but you’d stumbled onto the fact a few weeks ago. You’d managed to get yourself all worked up at a party, and after getting Wrench alone you’d gotten his pants off as quickly as your fumbling hands would allow. He was only at half-mast so you’d gone down on him, but your own pressing need had your hand snaking up under your skirt and… Well. You’d hardly been expecting him to cum, and if the look on his face was any indication—part shock, part mortification, and all confused amusement—neither had he. Before you could form a proper reaction he’d reversed your positions and buried his face between your legs and gave you what you needed and, before the aftershocks of the first orgasm had fully faded, he’d bent you over the nearest flat surface and gave you what you both wanted… 

In the time sense you’ve exploited the discovery multiple times and never once has it failed you. Wrench looks past his dick, down to where your hand disappears into your jeans. His short, tight thrusts against your lips are in time with each passing of your fingers against your swollen clit and fuck if that isn’t hot. Precum is leaking down his length now and you follow the viscous trail back up to its source before wrapping your lips back around him again. When he tells you he’s about to cum you believe him—way more than you believed that chick from earlier—and brace yourself for what you know it coming ( _heh_ ) next. Your lips clamp down tighter as the first spurt of warm liquid fills your mouth. Wrench’s hands do find your hair now as another follows, though he doesn’t force you down or himself upwards; instead he holds you steady, his blunt nails lightly raking at your scalp as the last of his release escapes him. His expression is adoring bordering on reverent as he watches you swallow and you can’t help but to return the dopey smile he’s giving you. A gentle pressure has you rising up more fully on your knees and then he’s kissing you—all soft and sweet and its such a dichotomy from what's just occurred that it leaves your head spinning… or maybe that’s from the warm feeling blooming in your chest that you’re not quite ready to put a label to just yet.

“Perfect. You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he breathes against your lips. He kisses you again, much more deeply this time, before asking, “You haven’t finished, have you?”

You giggle a bit as you suddenly become aware of the hand that’s still shoved down your pants. At some point you’d stop chasing your own release in lieu of coasting him through his. Your clit gives an almost painful throb now, one that has you choking on a groan, as if to punish you for the neglect. “Ah, _no_ ,” you manage after a pointed clearing of your throat.

“May I?” There’s a promise nested in the simple words that has you nodding somewhat dumbly; Wrench’s replying smirk is taken in through lidded eyes.

He pulls your hand away from its forgotten task. Calloused fingers follow the line of your arm, leaving trails of desire-fueled fire in their wake, until he can take your hand in his own. With a deliberate slowness he raises your still glistening fingers to his mouth and sucks them all clean. With every sucking pull at the digits your wanting wraps tighter and tighter in your belly until you’re convinced that the resulting pressure just might kill you when its finally released. Wrench presses a kiss to your palm—a tickling sensation that’s only lessened by the slickness that’s now on his lips—when he’s finally completed his torturous task. By now your chest is heaving with the breaths you're sucking in and you don’t even care to hide how damn turned on you are right now. For his part Wrench’s ego is clearly feeling as stroked at his dick. He lets out a self-satisfied chuckle—the sound is low, much lower than his usual cackle, and dark and full of promises and sex and everything else that's dirty and wonderful in this world—as he interlaces your fingers with his own.

“As much as I love seeing you on your knees babe, I need you to get your cute little ass up on the bed.”

Now it’s your turn to awkwardly-slash-eagerly tug at your pants. The task becomes a lot easier once you remember to take your shoes off. After a few moments of removal and a few more of getting comfortable amongst his pillows and sheets he’s finally kissing and nipping his way up your inner thigh. “ _Don’t tease me_ ,” you plead as he nuzzles at the soft skin just a few scant inches away from where you need him to be.

“Kinda dickish, huh?” he admits on a laugh. “Especially since you didn’t make me wait.”

Any retort you might’ve come up with dies as he presses a kiss directly against your clit. His warm tongue snakes out to flick at the bud a few times before dragging its length slowly over it. Your back arches then, hard, driving your head back into the pillow and putting a choking strain on your moan. Your hands tangle into his hair as you push him more firmly against your pussy and grind down. It almost feels selfish to do so after not allowing him to do the same not even a full five minutes ago, but you know Wrench loves it, has asked for it— _demanded it_ of you—a dozen times over. _“Smother me with your pussy, babe. **Please**.”_ Really, with a request like that how could you do anything but comply?

He pulls your left thigh up over his shoulder as he begins to work over your clit with pressure that’s _just right_ and a speed that’s _so damn perfect_ that you’re almost sobbing with your pleasure. And then an actual hiccup of the sound when he pulls away just long enough to bury his tongue inside of you. The thrust are far shallower than what he could achieve with that cock of his, but that doesn’t keep you from chasing after them with hard rolls of your hips. It’s so good, so damn fucking good, and only gets better when he rubs at your clit with the side of this thumb. The callous there is just rough enough to create little shockwaves with every pass, and the extra sensation has your vision going white around the edges. It’s all too much or maybe it’s not enough, you honestly aren’t even sure anymore. A litany of words are pouring out of you—you’re not sure what they are exactly; probably a nuanced assembly of his name, curses, _harder_ , _yes_ , and _more_ —and you know that you won’t be able to last too much longer. Wrench knows this too. Long nights spent acquainting himself with your every intricacy means that he knows just from the pitch of your voice, from the slight tightening of the muscles in your thigh, and a dozen other little things that you’re about to cum.

He presses his advantage now, swapping his thumb for his tongue and lips against your bud. The sucks against your clit are a pale shadow of what you’d given him earlier as his fingers bury themselves in the velvet warmth of your core. You can feel his eyes on you and the weight of his gaze compels you to meet it. His pupils are blow just as wide as they were when you had your lips locked around his cock and the hunger there… It’s almost as if he needs you to cum as much as he needs his next breath. His eyes narrow a bit and you know that if he weren’t so busy eating you out that he’d be smirking—or maybe not. Maybe he’d be speaking, telling, _commanding_ you to cum.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” you whisper as the thought takes root and it’s all the warning that either of you get. Your release hits you like the sweetest punch to the gut. You jolt up before curling over his prone form as much as your positioning and continued awkward, and totally reflexive, thrusting will allow. He guides you through your climax with little kisses and nuzzles until you're resting boneless and sated against the pillows once more.

Wrench gives your thigh a parting kiss before untangling himself from your legs. He slides up your length—and you can help but to notice _his_ , all hard and thick and so damn enticing—to curl up against your side. “I’d ask if it was good for you, but…” He laughs loudly when you swat at the arm he’s thrown over you tummy. “Not exactly what I’d call ‘effective peer review’, babe, but I’ll take it.”

You roll your eyes even as you laugh. “Please, as if that ego of yours needs any inflating.”

“‘Inflating’? No. Now _stroking_ …” His words unknowingly echo a previous errant thought and the combination makes you laugh further. He presses a kiss into your neck around his own chuckles—the feeling of his still-slick lips making you ache for him again, just a bit—before he presses himself in more firmly against your side. “Fuck, but I have _got_ to be the luckiest guy in the history of ever.”

You give a hum as you run idle fingers over the mishmash of ink on his forearm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean how many guys can say that they got a blowjob after their girlfriend caught them watching porn?”

You snort a bit. “Huh. Yeah, I uhh, I guess this isn’t typically how these things go.”

“Not usually, no,” he says as he moves to prop his head up on his free hand. “But to be fair, you did kinda cut me off at the good bit.”

“So you’re saying that I _owed_ you a suck and tug?” The sarcasm in your tone is negated by the smile that’s pulling at your lips.

“Uhh, _yeah_. When you stop a guy who’s beating his shit like it owes him money midway through I’m pretty sure you’re required by karma to help get him off. It’s like a rule of the road. The Sex Road. Okay that clearly got away from me,” he admits, “but you know what I mean.”

“Yeah… pretty sure that neither of those are a thing, Wrench,” you tell him between your laughs.

“I’m like ninety-seven percent sure that it is, babe. You don’t wanna go around pissing off the sex gods. That shit’ll leave you cursed with perma-blue balls—err… or whatever the female equivalent is.” He gives a thoughtful hum then. “Hey, what _would_ you call lady blue balls? ‘Blue ovaries’ doesn’t seem right… Maybe ‘blue lips’? Oh! _Oooooh!_ ‘Blue clit’! That’s gotta be it.”

By now you’re laughing, hard and helplessly, and he’s quick to join in. When the mirth finally dies down Wrench kisses you deeply and stealing what little air—and sense—you have left. “Now that we’ve gotten all of that lovely foreplay fuckery out of the way…” He gives you an exaggerated waggle of his brows as a wolfish grin splits his face.

 _ **Fuck me** , but this is gonna be one of the **good** nights._  
Of that you are sure.

**Author's Note:**

> So there’s that.  
> Idek how good it was—it’s been a cool minute since I’ve written smut—but at least I had fun writing it. As always I’m sleep-deprived so spelling/grammar fuckery probably abounds, but *shrugs*
> 
> If you guys have an idea for chapters (or you just wanna say _‘Sup?’_ ) leave me a message on my tumblr:  
> http://thepuckishrogue.tumblr.com/  
> It's a trash heap full of TWRP, NSP, and Planet Booty *cough*ignore my current thirst for Dylan Germick*cough* atm so follow at your own risk lmao.
> 
> Now if you’re not new here you know how shit my updating is, and if you can believe it it’s even worse with stuff like this. I don’t want to lie by promising that I’ll absolutely work on your idea or that it’ll be done in a timely manner, but they will be considered/added to my to-do list. Honestly I'm hella nervous about even extending the invitation—not b/c of you guys, but b/c of my own-damn-self—but hey, 'stepping out of the comfort zone' and all that jazz. Anyways, I’ve taken up enough of your time so I’ll just say “Stay lovely, lovelies” and leave it at that…


End file.
